God Rest You, Merry Parents

Christmas is a wonderful time to create magic for children, and to teach them to appreciate the magic that comes on its own. We had such fun gathering together as a family and working through all the joys and struggles that family life presents. Our family is unusual in that my sister married my husband's brother. (Yes, that's legal and not just in Kentucky.) My sister claims responsibility for the whole thing since she's the one that prayed that she and I would still share the same last name as grown-ups. The result is that we can all gather together in one house, in-laws and out-laws alike. Our separate families are beginning to truly meld into one. Last year was wonderful but this year was even sweeter as we worked our way through Christmas Adam, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
Our faith journey was tentative this year, because everyone is working through our study of Catholicism. We attended the Presbyterians' church service as a reasonable compromise, but we both found it lacking the elements we were looking for. Our connection as a family to the larger body of the faithful has become complicated in ways we never expected but that are also invigorating. We are being stretched in our appreciation of doctrine, and our understanding of Christian practice. There were other moments of faith that were easy as an old pair of blue jeans. We read the Christmas story, dressed the kids up for a nativity play and sang every Christmas carol we know--and some we didn't.
There were all those other joys too. Christmas presents--thank you, Mary, for the frying pan and Mother for the satchel--cookies, and wonderful food. I must recommend the America's Test Kitchen Cookbook. I made everything from Crab Imperial to Candied Sweet Potato Casserole, and every dish turned out perfectly. We also enjoyed the Barefoot Contessa's, Penne with Five Cheeses. Sam's Club had all kinds of ready-made treats that we enjoyed such as Blackened Salmon, cheese, and Shrimp Scampi. My sister brought Grandmother's fudge. Mother brought her famous Christmas Wreath Bread, and Mom Vi baked us five different kinds of pie--bless you for the raspberry, mmmmmmm.
Throughout it all, the children grew up. They learned about sharing toys with cousins and siblings. They learned about giving up what is yours for the benefit of others. They learned the joy of giving--thanks guys for taking the kids to the Dollar Store. They learned about the Savior. They learned to be thankful for what they have and for what they are given. I was proud of all seven of them as they grew and worshiped and ate together. May they always be blessed with such happy hearts eager to do good.

Cleaning and Scrubbing can't wait 'til tomorrow

I love that little poem about how "cleaning and scrubbing can wait for tomorrow, for babies grow up, we've learned to our sorrow. So, quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep. I'm rocking my babies and babies don't keep." But it's Christmas and everyone is coming and the cobwebs need to go.

Unless I find myself moving faster than previously imagined possible this is my last post before Christmas. Merry Christmas. Remember who you are truly making preparations for and enjoy the treasure of His presence.

Blowout

You know you've been baking when you blow out your oven mitt.

The annual Christmas card

An old college beau refused to begin to date seriously until I promised that we'd still be exchanging Christmas cards into the far future, no matter the outcome. I promised, and until this year I've kept that promise. I can't send him one this year since he didn't bother sending me a forwarding address, that's ok, he hasn't kept his end of the bargain in a decade now. I wish him well, and I thank him for getting me started on a tradition I most certainly wouldn't have started on my own.
It's a strange thing to try and distill a year of family life into a card and one page newsletter. I combine the philosophical essay and the all-out brag fest into one, hopefully, interesting jumble. This year was especially difficult because the year was a rather strange one and full of rather strange happenings. In the end I played it safe, and the letter is pretty indistinguishable from the year's previous--new clip art though.
I considered skipping this year, but I've come to rely on writing out those addresses. It's satisfying to come to the end and look at the large stack of Christmas cheer ready to keep the US Post Office busy for a couple days. The feeling of keeping in touch with people as diverse as my kindergarten teacher--Hi, Miss Briggs! and my old college boyfriend--Oops. Having such a variety of people that are worth a stamp is reassuring that the world really is the optimistic place I've always expected it to be.
I'm sorry if you didn't get your card this year. It would help if you kept up with the forwarding address.

Amelia Bedelia's Christmas

No, I'm not referring to the predictably enjoyable Christmas book in the Amelia Bedelia series, Merry Christmas, Amelia Bedelia. I am referring to my approach to personal relationships which says that people will forgive you for almost anything if you can make a good dessert. As I've already mentioned, I have been involved in a cookie baking frenzy. The unexpected side affect of all those cookies in the freezer is a confidence in my decisions as I plan Christmas activities, menus and gifts that I wouldn't ordinarily enjoy. Everything you need to know about life you really do learn in kindergarten.
Merry Christmas to my former preschool/kindergarten students by the way. I'd love to hear from any of you that might find me here in my little corner of the world-wide web.

Finding my Temper

Often we talk about losing our temper, but lately I've been busy finding mine. I've had a tendency to deny that I've been injured, and so I've been carrying around the anger that results from injury without any way of acknowledging and dealing with it. The result has been a low grade anger that seems merely a product of a crabby temperament. The more I explore my conscience and all the mismash of things that I've had in there as guides for my understanding of life and morality, the more I am discovering these injuries and thereby finding a home for my temper.
"Ahhh, that's why I'm so upset," I find myself saying over and over. This of course makes possible the requisite forgiving and releasing of the anger. Pretending that my life has been perfect most certainly does not make it so, and recognizing and dealing with its imperfections seems to be the fastest way to inner peace. I thought that by denying that people I love have hurt me I was dealing with the issue in the most charitable and Christian way, but in reality I was doing both of us harm. They weren't allowed to apologize, and I wasn't able to forgive. Life is not perfect. The people I love are not perfect. Recognizing and accepting that is actually the better way of grace.

The Weight of Glory

I am a woman who struggles with avarice when it comes to books. One of my favorite things about Kurt is his complete acceptance of my need for books. One time I was apologizing, yet again, for an expensive trip to the bookstore and he looked at me and said "But you need them." That my friends is how you know you've got a keeper. In any case, I still agonize over book purchases. Could I get this from the library? Will I want to reread it? Is this really important enough to spend book budget on?
Sometime during college, I began to notice a certain nudge from the Holy Spirit when a book wasn't an indulgence, but an important step forward in my growth. I've found that I never regret books purchased after listening to that nudge. On my day off a week or two ago, I picked up the Joy of Cooking and then enjoyed an aimless wander through the shelves at Barnes and Noble. On an end cap was an array of Lewis. I don't have a complete collection of Lewis, much as I would like one, so when the Holy Spirit nudged me to pick up The Weight of Glory I didn't waste any time agonizing. I've been so glad I listened.
First, I found myself struggling to understand the conflicts within my conscience, and then as I was reading my latest acquisition, I came across the surprisingly applicable essay "Why I am not an Atheist." The way he laid out what our conscience is and how we are to use it was tremendously helpful. Second, I was reading Transposition when I suddenly understood a friend's short story in a new and helpful way. Thirdly, sorting through my conscience had led me to my JEPD crisis, and there it was again, my issue in Lewis' collection of essays. Lewis says much the same things about the Old Testament that my new Catholic Bible says. Now that's an opinion I can trust.
It is a surprising thing to hear from the Living God in a quiet nudge, and to find obedience so overwhelmingly repaid. I wish all the little nudges were this easy to discern and obey. I would be a much better person than I am.

Woman without a country

I've been studying Catholicism in an effort to decide if I want to convert or not. In the course of my studies I was given a Catholic study Bible. It has an enormous reader's guide in the front, almost the half the size of the book. I've been working my way through it. Today I get to JEPD, and to Catholics, literary analysis is a perfectly acceptable approach to Scripture for students and theologians, and I find myself really angry.
I went to a fairly prominent if not terribly academic evangelical university. As part of everyone's course work we were required to take either introductory or advanced classes on the Old Testament, the New Testament and Theology. I was put in the advanced group, and my professor for Old Testament was the then president of the Evangelical Theological Society. He was the best Evangelicalism had to offer. Every day we came in after reading our assignments from Cragie's Old Testament, and we'd shred the higher critical approach. We'd be shocked and amazed that such people could in any way consider themselves people of faith. I did very well in the class. A pre-med student and I set the curve and we set it high.
Two years later I took Literary Criticism, and suddenly the tools and ideas we'd roundly condemned and censured as destructive to the faith were now to be embraced and put into practice with vigor. While no one else seemed to find a problem with subjecting Mrs. Dalloway to critiques we wouldn't even consider applying to Scripture problematic, I couldn't do it. The underlying tension between don't think at all here, think intensely there was too much, and I had to withdraw from the class. No one recognized it as a crisis of conscience. The closest they came was considering if the professor was teaching heresy.
Now here I am again facing ye olde JEPD problem and I don't know where to take it. I don't know how to feel, and I don't know who to ask to explain this one to me. What do you do with a thinking Evangelical?

Cookie Crazy

I've been feeling the mood coming on for a couple of weeks now. Some have a need for speed. I have a need to bake. Christmas is the time to unabashedly indulge in cookies, cookies and more cookies. I can't tell if it's all the fussing and the mixing and the monitoring of the oven or if it's the sheer joy of such variety, creativity and abundance. I love baking cookies. The last time this mood struck with full force I ended up with something like 80 or 90 dozen cookies in the freezer. I put them to good use. I made up tins full of samples of each variety and gave them to the neighbors.
This year I'm only planning on twenty batches which will yield somewhere around 30 or 40 dozen.
If you live nearby, be looking for three different kinds of brownie, three different rolled and cut cookies and four drop cookies. I'm only really cutting loose in the brownie department, most of the cookies will be pretty standard, but still tasty. Big Lots let me down on the tins, so I'll need to find alternative packaging, but I'm pretty creative. Something will come to me. Everybody else, well, I'm sorry, but you should move closer I'd like to see more of you anyway.
Merry Christmas and Happy Baking.

In the Empty

Dandelions roar in forsaken places--
Stubbornly converting radiation into bloom.
Where cultivated flowers wither
The dandelion shouts.
"We are not forgotten.
We are not abandoned.
We are not alone.
If 2 dead fish can feed 5,000
We can reproduce 100 fold."

A bit of fun

I found this piece when I unearthed some notes and scribbles for a poem I was working on bemoaning my repetitive use of a certain rhyme scheme. I just enjoyed it's weird admixture of fear and Jiminy Cricket.

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray this scheme my fears to keep
I wish I knew another rhythmn
2 left feet can't do nothin' with 'em.

A bruised reed He will not break

Sometimes God liked the stuff he put in the Bible so much He quoted himself to get it in twice. One of my favorite passages is the passage from Isaiah 42 that Jesus fulfills as noted in Matthew 12:18-21. I love the idea that Jesus won't even break an already damaged reed, even a smoldering light will be allowed to smolder on. For too long now I've been a damaged reed and a smoldering light, but today I felt the touch of Jesus. Today I went to church, and no one hurt me. Today was a day of decision and I haven't made one yet. I was left to continue mending without any fanfare, fuss or deadline. Puzzled but pleasant people once again offered me the sign of peace as I once again sat through the Eucharist. My fellow classmates all went forward and underwent the peculiar ritual of having the sign of the cross made over them several times and several ways, and then they were dismissed, while we sat alone in the crowd of the confirmed.
Slowly it is dawning on me that I am safe. I have found a harbor where I can rest unmolested, unhurried and unharmed. I can listen for the voice of Jesus without adrenaline pounding in my ears. I can inquire for direction without the fear of disappointing others or being manipulated into hearing something I didn't hear. The hand of Christ is held out to me open in invitation not command. No one is love-bombing me into misery. Thank you, St. Mary's. I'm sorry it's taking so long.

Writing a letter to Santa

My husband told me to take today and go have fun. He said I'd been working way too hard, and I deserved a day off. I kissed his face and grabbed the car keys and headed out to the nicest mall in the area. It was wonderful. I finally broke down and bought The Joy of Cooking. I worked on my novel. I found a great top for our annual fancy date--on sale! I bought little doo-dads and stocking-stuffers. Then I saw The Nativity. If there'd been a guy at a table just outside the movie offering a DVD of what I'd just seen at some ridiculous price, I'd have bought. I haven't seen such a wonderful Bible movie ever. I apologize to fans of The Passion of the Christ but I didn't like that as much as I loved this. Take tissues.
Then I did a little more putzing to come back to the everyday world before driving and I saw a "write a letter to Santa" kit. It had cutesy stationary and envelopes boldly stating "no address required." And I remembered my father's letter to Santa.
My dad is one of those people who was born with faith, and as a child a lot of that faith was invested in Santa. He'd reached that age where believing in Santa can get a guy beat up, so his mother took him aside and gently filled him in. Dad wouldn't buy it. He told her she was wrong and that he'd prove it. He was going to write to Santa and ask him to bring something special just for his mommy so that she'd know that Santa was real. There was nothing more she could do but wait for the inevitable disillusionment Christmas day.
Christmas day came and all the packages were opened and everyone was enjoying their new toys when my dad saw a box that was still unopened. The shape was similar to the box his Pop Warner football pads had come in so Grandmother had Dad open it. When he did he erupted with "See, Mom. See. I told you Santa was real. I told you." There in the box was a beautiful bride doll for Grandmother just like Dad had asked. I have it in my hope chest, and to this day no one knows how it got there--except for Santa.
I've never had my kids write to Santa. I've presented Santa as a person to emulate, and we've watched the excellent video Nicholas, the Boy Who Became Santa, but I've never taught them that Santa brings their presents. Standing today looking at that goofy kit, I wondered if I kept them from a great faith building exercise. Maybe in my eagerness to keep the focus on Christ, I've missed an opportunity to let the children grow in faith on their level. Too late now for us, but maybe not for you.
Merry Christmas!

Trent and Sarah had a baby boy!

Trent and Sarah had a baby boy
Trent and Sarah had a baby boy
and they called his name
John Paul Dougherty!

I wish I had the appropriate calypso background music, but you get the idea.
Congratulations! My email box runneth over.

Scott is engaged!!!!!!!!

To all my fellow Capitol Alumni, if you haven't heard yet, Scott is engaged. Congratulations, Scott! I knew this day was coming. Congratulations to Heidi as well. You got a winner.

From Olive to Valiant

This is my last post from my old laptop, affectionately known as "Olive." She was a gift from my husband after the discovery that sharing a PC was terribly difficult for two creative types. Olive's been a great help and the inspiration of all sorts of creative adventures from a modality intensive reading curriculum website to a small apron business and now on to my first novel. Thank you Olive for all your years of faithful service.

My new laptop is also a gift from my husband who valiantly stood in line for four hours starting at 2:00am at Best Buy on Black Friday. She's a beaut, and certain to carry me through several years of new adventures.

Paternalism

Seen and not heard
is not
silent.
You cannot scribe
peace on
a blank rage.

My favorite kid's catalogs

I've been so busy since I started my series on catalogs, and of course this is the year we keep bumping into the right gifts without the catalog. Anywho, just to spread the love for those who may not have discovered these fine retailers, let's take a spin through the kid's gift Christmas catalog "Hall of Fame."

Fisher-Price
The toys are classics, but the catalog has "exclusives" like actual shepherds for the Little People manger scene. I really enjoy the Shop-at-Home catalog, though I usually buy whatever we decide on at a store--unless it's an exclusive catalog item.

Toys to Grow On
This is an off-shoot of the venerable Lakeshore Learning catalog for early childhood educators. The toys in this catalog are more geared to home use rather than classroom use, and they have some interesting toys. This year I was impressed with the Step by Step sculpting kits, though we've decided to satisy our artsy kido's yen another way. We've occassionally been unhappy with the longevity of some of the items we've bought from this catalog, which surprised us since we've always had good luck with Lakeshore. Maybe they're still working the bugs out.

Delta Education
OK, so it's not a toy catalog, but if you have a kid who's oriented toward maths and sciences this is the catalog. It has everything from serious hardware, such as microscopes and telescopes to ant farms and Quarto. Buying a gift from Delta feels like an investment not an indulgence.

Hearth Song
This catalog comes at the toy business from it's own unique direction. I find lots of interesting little projects and throw back toys in this catalog. The emphasis is on imaginative play with such intersting gift ideas as "silkies" dress up cloths and wonderful puppets. A word of caution about the puppets, wait until your puppeteer is at least 10 before buying the Storytelling Hand Puppets, as they require tender loving care. Other products also have proved less than hearty, but still this catalog deserves a look, if only for it's pleasantly different appeal.

Oriental Trading Company
The teacher's best friend, this catalog is loaded with great craft ideas and projects, not to mention a nativity scene manned by rubber ducks. Oh yeah, I'm all over that one! Prices are good here too, but be sure and check the size and quantity.

Young Explorers
No surprise, this is an educational toy company as well, but this one has some really exciting games, such as a kind of Twister game with World Geography instead of circles. Spy kits, RC Stealth Bombers, pottery wheels, phonics laptops, lots of great stuff.

Chinaberry
Sometimes this catalog gets a little goddess heavy for my taste, but nevertheless, they do find interesting books, games and ways of showing love. Sometimes different is good, and this catalog comes at spirituality from an admittedly new-age angle. I've found that they are freer to appreciate the more mystical sides of Christianity and so they find books that would never cross my radar otherwise. Approach with caution, but do give them a look over.

American Girl
All right, I admit it. We love American Girl dolls. When one of our girls turns nine, she gets to choose one of the American Girl dolls and we begin the slow process of collecting the items a little at a time over birthdays and Christmas. The girls really get excited about history when they are thinking about the period in terms of whichever doll they are most excited about. The movies are wholesome and full of period detail. These dolls are a splurge. The items are over-priced, but we've decided that in the end they are worth it for us. We are all looking forward to Molly's movie. This catalog is definitely a girl thing.

Discovery Channel Store
Once again, a treasure trove of educational toys and products that are also a lot of fun. From the plastic frog for dissecting to the Paz Art projector this is a great place to look for unique gifts for the brainy kids in your life.

CRICKET
Don't miss Cricket or Ladybug or Spider or any of the other offerings from this terrific publisher. They also have a catalog with interesting gifts and books. I have loved Cricket for years. My parents gave me a subscription after the librarian pointed out that I'd read every back issue the library had. These guys are pricey as well, but I believe they are worth every penny. It made a difference for me.

Mindware
This catalog has received the Parent's Choice award three years running. It's another great source for truly entertaining educational games.

That's the list so far. Happy shopping

Nearly Perfect Day

Today has been a picture postcard of family life. I woke up late after stealing a few more moments to savor a dream about camping in one of those old fashioned, aluminum trailers. The kids and I have been talking about personal responsiblity, and the three oldest ones started their quiet school work and had made good progress by the time I made it down to the classroom. I was so impressed. The fourth, who is learning to read this year, suddenly clicked with the idea of sounding out words. She just kept going until her brain popped out of gear. We had a tremendous time with loud school in the afternoon, and then everyone pitched in to tidy up the house and cook a special "breakfast" dinner just as Kurt arrived home. We had waffles, basil and mozzarella eggs, and maple-link sausages, which we ate in the living room while we watched Curious George. Our little spud monster kept asking "Where's George?" until Ted reached Africa and then he just about lost it when George came on screen. It has been one of the happiest and coziest days ever.

Here's hoping your day was even better.

Awakenings

In the black of my mind
Golem is thinking.
The weak light awakens Psyche.
First a candle,
Then a flashlight,
Then a floodlamp,
Seeking the Risen Son.
But it is only Golem
Reflecting.

Not a promise, a command

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

I have to admit I am not a receiver. I hate being on the needy end of things. When I come to God, I come for energy and for direction, I don't come for rest. Recently though God has refused to give me anything but rest. I come to Him with questions and problems and ideas and he gives me rest, no answers, no direction, no work. Normally, that wouldn't slow me down terribly because I'd just reach into my own resources and work from there, but lately I've been plumb out of resources. I've had to humble myself and ask for help that I really needed, not help that would have been nice, but help that if it hadn't come I would have been lost. I'm finding it frightening to need other people, to have no back up plan but to ask for help. It's hard not being able to supply my own needs, but at the same time I am finally getting some rest.

I've tended to look at Matthew 11:28-30 as nice promise God made to us, but now I am recognizing that it is a command. There is no qualifier, no pretty please, just the command--"Come unto me." Rest must be far more important than I thought it was, because every effort I am making to come to God, has led me to rest. No work, no direction, no answers, just rest. Instead of the Slough of Despond, I seem to have fallen into the Slough of Hope. Every struggle to get back on the road sinks me deeper, but the deeper I sink the more powerfully I feel the hand holding me up. The more deeply I engage in this rest, the more I discover that I am surrounded by the love of God expressed not merely in His manifest presence, but in His presence in people. The more I rest and accept the love of God as He expresses it through His servants, the more I see how bountiful and beautiful is the work of God in mankind. I am hopeful that as I grow in my appreciation of the work of God in others I will begin to see and value the work of God in me. Maybe it's just trading Bunyan in for Merton, but whatever it is I'll never again undervalue the blessings of obeying the command to come and receive God's rest.

Homeschooling Hurricane

Before

and After...










Could we apply for federal aid? It's been a full quarter. One down, three to go!

Stealing Ideas for Christmas

'Tis the season for catalogs, at least at my house. I prefer the internet and catalog shopping for gifts because with five kids it's much easier to sit in a quiet corner and find the perfect gift within budget then it is to go out to the stores and keep track of totals and balances. As a result my mailbox is very full this year. I thought I'd squeeze out some cheap and easy articles sharing my finds as the stack gains inches.

Domestications

This catalog is a good source of low cost linens and household niceties. I don't recommend it for items that require long term wear, but for seasonal items it's prices can't be beat. I'm thinking of making two investments in Christmas paraphenalia because our home becomes everyone's home over the holidays. I think it's important to create a real holiday feeling that makes this more than just a family gathering. My first potential investment is in a set of holiday china. The Christmas Charm set has caught my eye not only for it's simple beauty, but also for it's reasonable price. Continuing the "Home for Christmas" theme I'd like to start collecting special blankets and sheets for Christmas time. Our little family moves out of the bedrooms and into the basement, so that each nuclear family visiting can have its own room. I'd really like for them to be sleeping under something other than purple butterflies and pink daisies. I think Christmas linens would make for a more "guest room" ambience. There are many versions at Domestications. My favorites are here andhere.

Gooseberry Patch

This catalog has a hand drawn coziness that is wonderful for stirring ideas. While I devour this catalog cover to cover, I have yet to place an order. This year they might finally persuade me though nothing has leapt out at me yet. My favorite idea to steal are these Santa's Little Helper Aprons. All seven children get in the act baking pies on Christmas Adam. My mother-in-law is the family pie expert and she does such a lovely job teaching the kids about pies. I'd love to deck out her little helpers in official helper gear. I'm thinking some green felt and some basic chef's aprons from Sam's Club might be just the ticket. Gooseberry Patch also do a great job suggesting overall themes and offering items to support the themes. My favorite one for this year is their Gingerbread Men. I think that might be just the idea for pulling together Christmas Eve, but Christmas Eve is still brewing away. Finally, I think my family might appreciate a barometer of how I'm handling all this Christmas stress. This apron might be just what they are looking for. :)

Best To You

Best To You has done better for me in the past. I used to find just the right Christmas card and such here, but this year I was just unimpressed. The designs feel rather dated for the most part. The best item of Christmas decor I found was a gilded crown of thorns for the tree top, but it seems they are currently sold out. There was a nice outdoor creche that scratches a long term itch, but I think we'll stick with our light up version for now. The best idea for stealing is the Jesus' stocking ornament. They are out of stock, but that's just fine. I thought their version was rather undersized. I'd like to create a larger version, and begin working on ways to incorporate giving to Jesus into our family's Christmas celebration for everyone. Perhaps we could offer up parts of ourselves we have been holding back, or if that's too abstract for the little ones, maybe we could do something in conjunction with The Most Important Catalog in the World (more about that later). I'd like to see each member of the family set something specific aside as a present for Jesus on his birthday.

The Vermont Country Store

This is my goto catalog for nostalgia gifts. There's always something to make the boomer generation ooh and ahh. While I'm unlikely to purchase a classic tinsel tree I might invest in some old fashioned hard candy that I'm a little too lazy to make. I fell in love with their Mrs. Claus granny gown with matching cap. I still enjoy dress up, and it'd make for cute pictures Christmas morning.

Lillian Vernon

I've spotted a few things for little gifts, so I'll have to be discreet. Let's just say there are lots of items that can be personalized. Definetly worth a look.

Sam's Club Membership Matters

Not to brag, but at my Sam's they just wave me in. I'm there every week, and so I get their catalog. I was very impressed with how many great ideas they had. The most important one I'm planning to steal is decorating the tree with photographs. Last year we all brought special ornaments from our various family trees and created a joint tree. I think this year I'll have everyone bring Christmas pictures from the present and the past. We'll scan them, print them, mount them on red card stock and decorate the tree. Then we can burn all the shared photos to CD so that everyone leaves with a digital photo album that includes special memories of all of us. Yep, Kurt will be in charge of the technical stuff. They had terrific cheese guide that I'll be relying on since fancy cheese isn't on our ordinary menu. I'm thinking that a cheese plate might be a nice foil for all those pies Grandma Vi and her seven helpers will be baking.

Well, I suppose that's more than enough for now. Happy planning!

Christmas Plans

Christmas is coming. I am not one of those people who gripes about Christmas displays in July. I like to plan for Christmas all year round. Christmas and Easter offer times to really immerse yourself in the miracle of God's personal love and attention. It is a powerful opportunity to make every moment a moment of worship and service. I love rituals and I tend to turn any successful idea into a ritual, as a result we have a lot of ready-made Christmas joy to draw on. I'll certainly be looking to select a theme and personalize this particular Christmas, but here are some of the rituals we use to make each Christmas part of the eternal Christmas.
Christmas Adam The day before Christmas Eve is a day of cleaning and preparation. We let go of all the normal concerns that fill up our days and instead focus on the coming blessings. I like to think of it as serving the same kind of purpose the cleaning of leaven out of Jewish homes during the Passover Celebration serves. Our home is transformed into a holy space where God can meet us and bless our time together.
Christmas Eve Boxes A few years ago I bought a set of nesting boxes with a Christmas print on them. We use them to keep the kids busy and on track on Christmas Eve. We start in the morning with something related to breakfast. We've had McDonald's gift certificates, muffin mix and a coupon from Pop-pop for french toast. Then we take care of getting ready for the day with some new toothbrushes and flavored dental floss. The next box is usually a craft that they can make to give to grandparents, and other guests, or that focuses attention on the real meaning of Christmas. Then there is a ticket to lunch or a baking class. We usually have a new Christmas video to watch in one of them. Last year, I made costumes for all the kids and we put together a Christmas play. Toward the end the box becomes about the Christmas story and our family tradition of singing carols and telling family stories about Christmas' past. The last box is always pajamas and bubble bath. I try to sneak a little something in that is surprising. One year I bought PJ's for everyone in the family, grandparents, aunts, uncles, it was fun. Another year I bought Build-A-Bear PJ's for the children's special dolls. The boxes organize the day, and are great for emphasizing the really important things and taking the focus off of the presents.
The Annual Christmas Ornament Every year we purchase a Hallmark ornament for each child and for ourselves as a couple. When it is time to decorate the tree we gather around and line up everyone's ornaments. We go through each year remembering what our family was like "way back when" and rejoicing over each addition as the first ornament for each child comes up in the story. When the children leave the nest, we'll pack up their ornaments and send them off to start making their own families and memories. That thought makes me happy and sad. I hope for at least one or two Christmas' futures we have them bring their old ornaments and the new ones that they've bought for their children so that we can go through the whole gigantic story of us as it is then.
Happy planning, and may your Christmas be truly blessed with the presence of Christ.

Writing 2.0

Written langauge is one of our most ancient technologies, and I believe it's time for an upgrade. For the last several decades a mysterious fog has surrounded the fairly straightforward process of mastering written language. Loud, bitter debates between practicioners of various systems for training new reader/writers have sprung up and wasted tremendous amounts of time and minds. When you step back from all the arguing and simply look at written language it's a fairly simple system of matching sound to letters. I can hear the rumbling from various camps about that "simplification", but the truth is unavoidable. As a piece of technology, writing is very simple. The difficulties that arise are due to the sentimental accretions we've held on to just because Oxford wrote up a dictionary. It is time to look at our phonetic system and standardize spelling and phonemes. It is time for laugh to become laff, phone/fone, etc.
Children are being confused and overwhelmed at the gateway of education, in order to spare lovers of ancient spellings and those who cannot accept the growing distance between this era and the Elizabethan period. We are wasting precious time on learning ancient phonemes and an unnecessarily confusing phonetic system that is now needed for the greater demands placed on the average mind by our information driven society . I love Shakespeare as much if not more as the next person, but I don't think we should hold our children's progress hostage to his spelling--after all he wasn't overly concerned with consistent spelling himself. We need to simpify written language so that learning to read becomes as easy for children as learning to use a computer or a game system. Written language is just another human technology and we need to give it an upgrade.

Turn around

Everytime I turn around time has disappeared. My husband has been out of the country for the last week, so I've been a single parent. I'm so impressed with single-parents. I have no idea how they do it. I do it by relaxing certain rules and deadlines, and getting to be earlier than usual. My time has been well-used, but blogging just didn't fit into the mix without Kurt here to help carry some of the burden. I hope to be back on track soon.

A TV School (Auditions)

This story starts here.

Saturday was crazy. Two hundred children had been notified to come the this audition. Penny felt uncomfortable in the clothes her mother had chosen. If she'd kept her mouth shut about Childrise being Sonrise they might not be here, but here they were. All the children were sorted by age and photographed. Ms. Michelle made a special effort to get group shots of siblings.
To Penny's surprise the audition process was fun. First, they put you in front of the camera and recorded your answers to interesting questions. Then they put you in groups with the other kids and filmed while you worked together to solve problems. Periodically, children would be reorganized and some children would be sent to wait with their parents. Penny and Quade were the first Thistles sent to wait. Dolores came next. She put her head in Helia's lap and went to sleep. Penny leaned against Alistaire wishing she were young enough to follow Dolores' example. Finally all the children returned to the large auditorium and Ms. Michelle's assistants passed out sealed envelopes. Ms. Michelle congratulated all the children and told them they were all stars. She reminded that that lots of other kids hadn't even been invited to audition. Then everyone was dismissed.
Alistaire collected everyone's envelopes unopened. When the children protested, he announced that he would not open them until they were all at home. The atmosphere in the car on the way home was tense. The children's emotions swung from exhileration to disappointment, and everyone kept asking about the envelopes.
The children packed themselves onto the couch. It felt good to be close together while they awaited the verdict. Alistaire and Helia went into their bedroom to open the envelopes. Demetra reached for Penny's hand. Penny reached for Niko's. Dolores and Quade grabbed each other. Everyone was very quiet.
"You're all in." Helia said, finally emerging from the bedroom. The couch erupted with cheers.
"I knew we'd get in!" Niko shouted.
Penny smiled and gave him a high five. "It was kind of fun" she said.
"Ha! I told you so, this going to be the best year ever!"
There was a knock at the door. Hera had heard the commotion and brought up a cake. The cake was decorated with five director's chair with each child's namely carefully displayed on the back.
"Mother, what would you have done with all this if the children hadn't been accepted?" Helia asked.
"Reject my grandbabies? They would have to be crazy!"
Alistaire put his arms around both women. "You're right, Hera. They would have to be crazy."

Early Reviews of Homeschool Drills

We're just getting happily settled into our new school routine. We begin with a Bible story and some fun review games, then we settle into Quiet School. Quiet School isn't very quiet this year as Iris (4) is doing kindergarten material. I have to do something to keep her busy or she causes trouble, and the harder it is the better. However, this means that I'm once again helping a beginning reader through their work. So much for my quiet time. Everyone else is doing brilliantly on their independant studies and I'm proud to say they often finish their work early. We then have recess which is quite lively because they are so tired of being quiet. Lunch is sped through and then it's time for drills. This is a new feature to our curriculum, and one I was uncertain about. I knew we had to do something to strengthen the girl's grasp of the routine things like math facts and handwriting, but I hate routine and rote anything. I bit the bullet and bought materials, and I hate to say it, but drill time is everybody's favorite.
There are six stations the three oldest work their way through. Spelling Power's pre-test, 10-step study sheet, and reinforcing activity are three of them. A daily sheet of math fact drills is another, and then we have handwriting and journaling. Spelling Power is amazing. Everybody is much more print aware. The girls are striving for perfect pre-tests. The 10-step review is fun and effective. As a side note, I purchased a set of alphabet cards that have a rough surface and the directions for correctly forming the letters for the trace and say portion of the review. I highly recommend them. Handwriting is reinforced and my kinesthetic children tend to lock the word using them. For review, I've found all sorts of games and activities that the girls enjoy. One of our favorites is a handwriting machine that teaches both manuscript and cursive as well as playing numerous other games.
The math drills are my competitive daughter's daily highlight. She is always trying to go further faster than her sisters. They are going more slowly than I'd like, but the facts are becoming so entrenched and their systems for attacking math problems are measurably improved and streamlined. Handwriting is getting there. We struggle with reversals across the board. I don't have a single child who doesn't seem to feel that it's the shape and not the direction that matters when writing numbers and letters. They like the practice and the time limit makes it more tolerable. Journaling is improved because the spelling and handwriting are so improved. I have to admit it, boring routine isn't so boring, and it gets things done.
The rest of our day is given to history, langauge arts and science--the fun stuff. Physics is a blast. I thought I'd picked something that was maybe over our heads--not so. It's fascinating and we are looking at ordinary things in new ways. Plus, Kurt enjoys teaching it, so I have every other Friday off. Bonus. Hope your year is going well, and that our experience might be useful.

The Joys of the Unitasker

I have made it a practice in my life to prefer the multitasker to the unitasker. If a product was going to impress me it had to do at least two different things. I should have known that that point of view was beginning to crumble when I held onto the toastmaster pancake maker instead of donating it to Goodwill. It was a throw in with the mega-sized George Foreman grill. There was a toaster too and the whole thing was on sale for a shockingly low price. The toaster is long gone. The George Foreman is well-used. The pancake maker has become one of my favorite appliances. The pancakes cook on both sides at once--no flipping, and they are all lovely, little, uniform circles--no arguing about who got the biggest, strangest, etc... pancake. It also cleans up so easily it doesn't even feel like work. For the first time I was a devotee of a single purpose appliance.
In my defense I made the pancakes out of Bisquick which is the ultimate multi-tasker. You can make almost any bread out of Bisquick. It has gotten me out of numerous jams and like my mother before me I always have it on hand. Bisquick makes adequate pancakes. I've been eating them all my life. They aren't particularly sweet, in fact I've always secretely found them a little salty for a pancake. But they were easy and always on hand.
I've mentioned in the past that we are Sam's Club shoppers, and at Sam's they stock the Bisquick right next to Krusteaz Pancake Mix. Pancake mix is a unitasker. Allright, they do tell you how to make up waffle batter with it, but that's it. Pancakes is all they do. But week after week, Bisquick box after Bisquick box, I remained intrigued by the Krusteaz. This Saturday I gave in. The perfect pancake machine deserved better than Bisquick, no offense my long-loved brand. I bought that gigantic bag of pancake mix and brought it home to a skeptical husband. "That's a lot of pancake mix" he said. "I know" was the best I could do in reply. He left to attend a wedding and the kids and I broke out the pancake maker. The neat thing about not having recipes for wonder pie and cofee cake is that all that back matter can be devoted to new and delightful versions of pancake recipes. This is Michigan and the apples are at their peak, so we made Apple Spice pancakes. God forgive me I ate four myself and I do not regret it. They were sweet, no extraneous leavenings or salt. The apples and cinnamon elevated this humble dinner to cuisine. We made them again today. Well, Kurt had try it. Anybody want to come over for pancakes. It really is a big bag, and we ought to use it up. Just drop in. It only takes a few minutes to whip up a batch.

Mom

Lately I've been acquiring that "mom" patina--practical clothes, practical solutions, practical life. My friends have been bemoaning all the normal changes and such of growing older, but to be honest I like my age and all the accompanying "patina." There is something nice about the way children take me on faith, and the way that people assume I'm quite competent at a variety of things. I love actually being competent at most of those things. I like knowing how to get a child to stop screaming in a grocery store, and how to ignore them with grace if they won't. I like being able to simply shift to a different tone of voice and getting results. I like knowing when something is serious and needs attention and when it's just one of those ordinary little colds or scrapes. I like having children piled all over me on the sofa while I watch Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. There is some kind of magic in motherhood that is transforming.
I prefer me today to me "back in the day." Back in the day I didn't know how to make things better, and I was too self-involved to try. Back in the day the world had to make way for my agenda and my interests. Now, I've learned that it's more interesting and more rewarding to help others with their agendas when I can. That making time to enjoy a child's homemade fairy wings and dance routines and fashion shows is more rewarding and important than almost any of the other opportunities that crowd my day.
I look like a mom, act like a mom, dress like a mom and smell like a mom, and I'm pretty sure that I've never been better.

Checklists

I'm finishing up my preparations for tomorrow's school and the last thing I do each night is print up the next day's check lists. Each child, with the exception of our two-year old, has a half-sheet clipboard that hangs on a nail next to the kid bathroom. Every night I reload the clipboard with five half-sheet checklists that specify the jobs they must accomplish at certain times of the day. The first sheet is basically, get out of bed, make the bed, get dressed, and do your basic grooming. The next sheet is their first family chore of the day, which is different for each child and keyed to their age and abilities. One child sorts laundry, another cleans the breakfast dishes, etc. I did decide to move their Quiet School time to the morning, and it does work much better. Each child has a checklist with the different subjects and the amounts of work they are to do in each subject. Next to last is the after-dinner checklist which is more family chores. Everyone must clean their room and tackle another support chore--the other bathroom, tidying the living room, etc. Finally there is a checklist for all those bedtime basics, pjs, tooth brushing, washing up.
The checklists save a lot of time because I no longer have to explain what done looks like. What needs to be done is right there in black and white. I used to waste endless time arguing through the rather skillful defenses my children had for half done work, but now I simply point to the portion of the checklist that is incomplete. The children seem to like it as well. They are certain that they are done and that I'll be satisfied with what they've accomplished. All they have to do is very clearly laid out for them as well as the amount of time they have to accomplish it.
All in all, this has been an excellent improvement in our family's quality of life. If you are in need of something to smooth out the pressure of chores and individual responsibilities you might consider adopting out ideas to your own needs.

Snort!

What Type of Homeschooler Are You?

Salvador Dali Melting clocks are not a problem in your reality. You are an unschooler. You will tolerate a textbook, but only as a last resort. Mud is your friend. You prefer hands-on everything. If your school had an anthem, it would be Dont Worry, Be Happy. Visit my blog: http://www.GuiltFreeHomeschooling.blogspot.com
Take this quiz!








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I took this quiz, and it is so off. We are very scheduled and curriculumed. I have endless textbooks. I must admit I would prefer it were not so, but who can afford the breadth of resources necessary to unschool? I must have order or I will get nothing done. I would love to be this kind of teacher, but in order to trust that the kids were getting everything they needed I'd have to hire like three other teachers to keep track of what everybody was doing. We'd also be traveling constantly. I suppose this is honest to my aspirations and preferences, but not to my actual practice. This is nothing like our actual practice.

and just like that, summer's over

It was a good day, all things considered. School was started. New habits were introduced. Old habits were successfully revived. I was feeling great until I realized--no more summer. No more skipping chores because it was just too nice outside. No more letting kids slide because they can sleep in. No more Mrs. Nice Mom. I've got to be the uber parent all over again.
When homeschooling is going well, there is nothing like it. You tally up the progress with an immediacy no school can offer. You watch your children metamorph into great readers and writers. You notice when they are flying through their fact tables instead of checking their fingers every problem. All of that leads to some really positive feelings. When homeschooling is going badly, there is nothing like it. The only person available to push the kids would be the only person there to get the kids to do anything. You find yourself arguing and disciplining all day long when one of the kids goes bad. On the days when they won't clean their room, they won't do their work and they won't say it nicely--well, I don't know of anything worse.
Summer is great because you have so little to be concerned about it. Some swim classes, some light chores, making sure that they at least get to bed before you do. I'm going to miss this summer. It got off to a bad start, but in the end I think it was the best summer we've ever had. Ah well, there's always next year.

Sears Shopper

We spent a good chunk of yesterday shopping for clothes. The girls needed some dresses for church and some casual clothes to wear after school is done for the day. Kurt needed some work pants and some exercise gear. I was hoping to find some casual dresses and skirts for teaching. I was out of luck at most of the major retailers. Clothes at this moment are all flounced and shirred and fashion forward. I blame the television shows where "experts" berate ordinary citizens for their lack luster wardrobes. Everyone wants to make sure they are wearing the impractical "after" look instead of the generally sensible if not inspired "before."
While I adore fashion, am a devotee of Project Runway, and have taken a class in pattern drafting because I so enjoy clothes, I must insist on practicality. I can't be bothered with bias cut crepe de chine that I'll need to throw away the first time my son uses the hem for a Kleenex. Pattern and color may be fashion forward, but they are also time consuming. When I get up I have five children to get motivated to do chores and do school. That doesn't leave a lot of time for coordinating accessories and shoes. This is not to condemn all fashion houses. If we were rich and everyone in the world was getting three squares a day, I'd live in Ralph Lauren. He makes beautiful stuff, and generally practical and long wearing. In reality, I'm limited by a budget, and the retailers within that budget are selling me outfits for the finale of "How Do I Look?". I can't afford to waste my money on those either.
So, where do I end up these days? Surprisingly, Sears is becoming my goto store. Their kid department isn't that great (I did find some lovely clothes at Burlington Coat Factory), but the adult section is filled with simple, practical clothing that can handle my heavy on the unpleasant excretions life. They carry Lands End products and generally nearby they have an in-store line of similar clothing. I put together a great teaching wardrobe for this year and I paid 20 dollars or less for each item. Colors coordinate, so you can mix and match the pieces. If you are in need of practical, washable, quick to co-ordinate clothes, I recommend Sears. They've earned my respect by bucking the trend.

Ready for Action!

I suppose this could be called extreme homeschooling, but it's a huge part of our life. We really needed a dedicated space for everything we are doing. The basement is such a blessing, and we're very thankful.

These are our bulletin boards and our Quick Write Tree. The tree changes with the seasons and has different items (snowflakes, raindrops, etc.) attached with suggestions for journaling.

These are the girl's computers, my chalkboard and our central teaching area.

These are the resource shelves that hold support materials for the curriculum.

These are our craft and curriculum shelves.

This is our preschool corner. Olga da Polga our guinea pig lives here too.

A TV School (The Prince)

This story starts here.


Helia stripped off her hose before sinking into the couch. The interview had been good but she didn't really like the school. Alistaire had headed back to their bedroom to change his clothes.
"I thought the interview went well." he shouted.
"The money is good." she shouted back.
"The school is well-respected." he said as he sat down next to her.
She loosened her belt before looking him in the eye. "You hate it too?"
"Yep."
"We've gotten spoiled working for the Foundation. You can't replicate that kind of flexibility in a regular school."
"I'm going to miss making it up as I go along."
"Did you see the stack of the previous year's lesson plans? They are required to turn them in!"
"The money is good."
"Really good."
"I'm pretty sure they liked us."
Helia kissed Alistaire before getting up to get changed.
While she was changing, Alistaire switched on the answering machine.
"Hello, this is Janet Michelle of Blair Productions calling to let you know you've made it to the first round of interviews for a teaching position at Childrise School. Please call me so we can discuss times..."
"Childrise School? I've never heard of it. Did we apply there?"
"I don't remember applying to a school named Childrise."
"Whoopee!" Niko came sailing in the the living room waving a print out of an email.
"Yes, and the good news is?" Helia asked.
"We're going to be on TV! Childrise is considering our applications. We're supposed to audition on Saturday! Please, say we can go."
Helia and Alistaire exchanged glances.
"Niko, you wouldn't have submitted applications for us would you?" Alistaire questioned.
Niko exploded. "They want you too! Awesome! We're going to be on TV. We're going to be on TV."
"Did we name him for your father or for Marchiavelli?" Alistaire asked.
"Machiavelli, definitely."

This story continues here.

Mary

A proved mother may berth my art
Athena requires thought
They cannot conceive me.

Uniform Solution

When you put the words "sturdy", "attractive" and "cheap" in the advertising for clothing you have my attention. After all I have five kids who eat clothes--that's only a metaphor for three of them. I got the idea last year to have the girls wear uniforms while we did school, and it was so great! They got up and they put on their uniform. I bought them several options of blouses and various jumper, pant, skort combinations, but the basic colors and details tied us together as a unit. Our class time had a certain respect that had been lacking. Putting on your comfortable clothes was a sign that you had finished your work. Clothing lasted longer, and looked better.
So, we're doing it again this year. We went on a treasure hunt for all the various pieces of last year's wardrobe. Everyone had grown. We had to throw out a few blouses that Iris had, well, eaten. But even so, we are more than halfway outfitted for this year. I've got to order a few items for the oldest and for the fourth who is just young enough to be too short to inherit the third's stuff.
If you homeschool and have a large family, I recommend the uniform solution. I've been very pleased. We use French Toast. They are inexpensive, and the clothes do hold up. I've not always gotten the best service, but eventually they do make things right if they go wrong. Uniforms, who knew? They really work for us.

Australia, Here I come

Today was one of those days. You know the kind of day that Alexander had. The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days. The ones where you plan to move to Australia. It started last night actually. I went to my writer's group with a piece I knew was going to be eaten alive. Why I tortured myself doing something so foolish? I thought that the jokes were funny enough to coax them to forgive me. I was wrong. No one got my jokes for all the reasons that I knew they were going to eat the piece alive. I think I'll move TV School to Australia.
Then I woke up and I had a took my medicine late so I could go to the writer's group hangover. The kids were not interested in getting organized on their own, and we were a little late for swim class. I was going to let the littles play on the playground while we shared a box of Junior Mints, but I forgot my watch, so we had to go sit on the benches in the humid pool area, again. Peter stole another child's cars and then tried to run away while I was watching and waving at the three in the pool. I wonder if you have to know how to swim to live in Australia.
We got home and I set them free to play while Peter took his nap. They were having a grand time riding down the middle of the street on their bikes. My friend came by and reminded me that some of the teens drive too fast, and that she usually sits outside with her kids when they play outside. She had a point. I brought them all inside and they got really bored. I bet they'd be able to entertain themselves for an hour in Australia.
My poison ivy began to itch and I was out of the cream to make it stop. The kids decided to gang up on each other, and to test the line between clever dialogue and sass. I had to be momzilla. My popularity sank through the floor. I bet moms are deeply revered in Australia.
I scratched the poison ivy until it bled. Sometimes you have to give in to these things. I officially became a masochist when I splashed it all with Sea Breeze. Then I remembered that I have Zyrtec from a bad reaction to Amoxicillin. Why couldn't that thought have suggested itself before I gave in to the orgy of scratching? I bet Zyrtec is over the counter in Australia.
Then my husband took over and made dinner. He got all those ornery kids to eat and clean up and behave with some decorum. He gave me permission to go blog it out, and he made me up a plate for when I feel better. You know I bet they don't have anyone that great in Australia. I guess I better stay home.

Pop Quiz for TV School fans

OK, mom and whoever else has read TV School. (I hope you're out there.) I know that the stuff I'm writing is all wrong, wrong, wrong, but I thought it was at least a little amusing. I will be rewriting the whole thing from a fixed point of view and all that crap when I've made this world up in all of its glorious detail. I need to know all the details for reasons that I shall reveal upon publication--maybe.

Anyway, here goes. (Record your answers in the comment section and when all the correct answers have been entered I'll reveal the official answer key.

1. Who wears a blue dress?

2. What cartoon series (that is itself an homage to a silent film series) is quietly given the nod?

3. What ancient myth is the actual inspiration for the plot?

4. One of my goddesses is out of the closet, can you out the other?

5. 1.46 Name it and claim it.

Please somebody figure these out. I'm hopeful that while the scaffolding is just scaffolding, that it has some amusement value of its own.

A Nosegay of Freshly Sharpened Pencils

I'm starting to get school fever. I was really struggling to get my physics study off the ground until I found the God's Design Series. They have all the experiments and helpful text in one place. Phew! I was going to base it all on the Teaching Company Physics course, but I couldn't find any really good books to support my efforts to bring the material down to the kid's level, at least none that were in our family's budget for this year. If our budget grows I may purchase some Science in a Nutshell sets. I've never bought them before, but I've drooled over them for years. If anyone has any input on them, I'd love to hear it.
I'm teaching Shurley English for the second year in a row. I love the ease of preparation and the thoroughness with which she teaches grammar. We'll be continuing our daily quick writes, and hopefully we will make some progress on handwriting. Rosie's struggle with spelling--partly due to an undiagnosed far-sightedness--has convinced me that we need to add Spelling Power to our routine. I also love Color Phonics for reinforcing and teaching phonics. I have had some trouble with the disks having errors that impeded play, but it's still a great product.
History? We are basing our study on the Veritas Press History Cards. I don't like their support materials, but the cards themselves are a simple way to steer through history. I pull in books on the event we are studying from the library in order to make the viewpoint a little more in line with current research. Veritas Press is a lot too retro for my taste, but it is a good gimic. Our study this year will start in 1815 America and continue to the present.
I must admit that I take the wimp's way out with math and leave the bulk of mathematics instruction to the prepackaged curriculum we use during quiet school. I will be doing drills on basic facts and emphasizing counting.
Our study of the Bible will be an oldie, but goodie Betty Lukens flannelgraph. I remember it from my childhood, and it's fun. The girls love it. I may let Mea and Rosie prepare some of the lessons this year.
As always the girls are responsible for their own education in the afternoon--though I may move Quiet School to the morning hours. The older girls use SOS because it is so easy for me. The computer does the majority of the grading and such. Mea is going to give Latin a go. The littles will be working through the Horizons workbooks.
I am so excited about next year. I hope you have a wonderful time preparing for the next school year no matter how you teach your children.

A TV School (Janet's headache)

This story starts here.

Janet had a headache. The West Trust had thrown a fit over the recasting of the teachers. Evidently, their authority superceded Ms. West's authority as headmistress. They were not going to allow her to cast any teachers they had not approved. All the current faculty would remain and any new faculty would have to go through the ordinary Sonrise hiring process. They had scrapped all of her teachers. Janet was under new directions from Daniella. The new emphasis was on the teacher's peccadillos, oddities, and unusual talents. Instead of just finding attractive, sympathetic teachers, she had to find pecuiliar teachers.
Janet culled through the resumes for the seventh or eighth time, and then decided to see if any new applications had popped up. An intriguing pair of applications from a married couple caught her attention. They had gone to good schools, but neither had a degree in education. Sonrise would like that. Working for the Reinvent Foundation, they had entered the education business through the back door. The West Trust had granted money to Reinvent. Janet hurriedly scrolled down to the personal information--wow, five kids. How much do you want to bet that they've applied to be on the show? Sure enough, a quick scan through the clog of new children's applications brought up five little Thistles. Daniella would like this. Big families were hot. She put them on the list for a call-in.

Thank you, I. M. Pei

I find the first fruits of the oft promised convergence so promising. The ability to go online and find books from my library, movies from netflix, and all kinds of cultural information is so rich. The idea that someday, hopefully in my lifetime, I will be able to find anything I want on the internet--probably on some handheld device that works wherever I happen to be--is one of the best and happiest parts of the future. When I was growing up, culture was limited to the local library's collection of books, the dedicated efforts of my teachers, and some lengthy and expensive trips to Washington D.C. and Baltimore.
Today, thanks to netflix, I watched a documentary on the work of I.M. Pei. I have admired I. M. Pei since I stepped into the East wing of the National Gallery of Art. When they got to that part of his resume, I was amazed to see him tearing up at the abundance of young people crowding the museum. He had been designing the project at the same time that the Museum of Air and Space was going up, and he was trying to compete for young people's attention. I teared up too, because his decidedly modern architecture was one of the first experiences that inspired me to accept modern art instead of eschewing it as my little subculture routinely did. I found the building so alive that it was itself a rival for my attention. I love the West Wing, but the architecture said little to me except that it was very expensive. I happily ignored it and enjoyed the galleries. My parents didn't take me into the East Wing. I discovered it on one of my teenage trips to the mall. I was mesmerized, and I had a strong feeling of homecoming.
What a pleasure this age of information is! I can feel a connection to a person I will never meet, but that has profoundly influenced my life. Because he was willing to share his ideas and himself, his work has taken on another dimension for me. I've seen his buildings around the world; buildings that I'll probably never see in person. I've had the opportunity to hear him express what it means to be creative, and to discover that he meant to draw me into art. The well-laid trap was well-intentioned. I hope it sets others free as it has set me free. Thank you, Mr. Pei. I noticed, and I'm grateful.

A TV School (MI: Yaya Style)

This story starts here.

Hera knew she was acting badly, but it was the first time Niko had come to her. Niko always went to Nicholas, but this time it was Hera who got the nod. So, here she was secretly using a camera she didn't understand and a computer she understood even less. All so that her beautiful grandchildren could be on TV at that fancy school the Wests ran.
Niko pulled a square thing out of the camera and inserted it into the computer. All the pictures they had just taken flashed up on the screen. There was Penny, hiding in the closet, Dolores hamming it up, Demetra looking angry because she hadn't finished brushing her hair, and Quade's sweet smile. Hera had beautiful grandchildren and this wasn't even the half of them. The big score were the pictures of Helia and Alistaire. They had been on their way to an interview so they looked very professional. Helia was so beautiful. Hera could never understand her attraction to Alistaire, but she knew the Alistaire was a very good man--not an attractive man, but a very good man.
Niko sorted through the pictures culling and cropping and finally inserting them into the appropriate blanks in the online applications. He had even found the appropriate area to submit teacher applications.
"This is going to be great, Yaya. They have to choose us. We're smart. We're good looking, and our parents are teachers. Where else will they find a family like that? We have great back story."
"Absolutely." Hera enthused, though she wasn't sure what "back story" meant.
The applications were finished except the resume portion of Alistaire and Helia. Hera had helped to secure a copy of their resumes by saying that she would pass it on the principal of the Orthodox school. Niko added the input in the proper places.
"That's that, Yaya. Thanks for letting me use the bakery computer. I didn't want mom and dad to catch me."
"No problem. I'll let you know if they reply." she promised.

This story continues here.

A TV School (Excellent Service)

This story starts here.

Gerald was swearing inwardly, though outwardly he was maintaining his lawyerly demeanor. Phil had always been disorganized, but this was approaching legendary. Somewhere in this haphazard stack of SIGNED! contracts she had turned over the school's identity, constitution, and perhaps even property rights. He was going to be in such trouble with the Trust's officers. She had called him to ask for advice, albeit in her typical backward fashion. If it weren't for granfather Corney he'd have resigned as the school's lawyer years ago.
Phil was repentant, but it was beginning to look like too little, too late.
Good old Yeats brought in supper. Maggie must be feeling for the old lady. She'd sent them stroganoff just like his grandmother used to make.
Taking a breath he pushed back the papers and stepped over to the work table where Yeats had laid out supper.
"Aunt Phil, this is a nightmare. I'm still not sure I understand what's happenned or how you can get back on top of this situation." He gestured to the stacks of sorted contracts. "This stack gives them the ability to rename the school for television purposes. This one gives them 24 hour camera access. This one allows them to control admissions and that one allows them to hire new teachers. So far the only thing they can't do is fire you and that's only because Trust policy supercedes this more recent batch of paperwork. I think Trust policy will help with a good number of these items, but there are a lot of things including the possibility of uniforms that you are just going to be out of luck on. I've called Bernie and he's going to help me. Yeats, you signed these documents as witness, didn't it strike you that she might want to slow down?"
"Miss West is an excellent decision maker."
"Be that as it may, Yeats...." Gerald gave up. Grandma's stroganoff was really good.
"On the other hand, Master Gerald, She is not the most efficient person."
Phil looked hurt. Yeats never criticized her and here he was doing it in front of Gerald, who always criticized her.
Gerald, however, saw something different behind Yeats' comment and stepped back to look at the pile of contracts. They weren't all signed. She'd forgotten some of them. Maybe things weren't so bad after all.

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Living Sacrifice

empty cracker
no grief
no regret
dead communion
in remembrance.

Host of Life
His Life
Broken Life
Breaks me into Breathing

Take. Eat. This is my Body,
Broken for You

Larry Boy Says...

That I can't be the superhero God wants me to be if I'm thinking about chocolate all the time. Drat! I thought getting the mildew off my daughter's special frog doll qualified me for superhero status, but if a chocolate obsession gets in the way of that, well, let's hope he stays out of the bathtub next time.
I love Larry Boy and all his friends. We have the entire collection, and somehow the formula never grows old. But. I'm beginning to question the very low bar we set for "superhero" status in my little corner of the Christian world. A guy writes a short little book on an even shorter prayer, and he is suddenly a superhero because it sells well. I find it telling that when he actually tried to live his superhero life, he found it so hard he came home. Shouldn't superhero status have something to do with genuine sanctity, not salesmanship?
Maybe I'm asking too much of my fellow believers to expect them to want their heroes to be more than glorified salesman, and that their gurus be more than inspirational entertainers. After all, the real thing has never been exactly popular. Genuine saints have an alarming tendency to be martyred or at least seriously persecuted. I don't think evangelical Christianity is about that. Larry Boy may give up his chocolate, but I don't think he'll be moving out of the mansion or giving up his butler.
I'm probably never going to reach superhero status in my faith, but I don't think it will be because I couldn't give up chocolate. I think there are much more grievous sins that the average evangelical celebrates which will ensnare me.

A TV School (The Rookary)

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Sharp could see that he was headed to someplace special. Young Frankie could barely contain himself.
"Children in Frankie's pod are not allowed on the third floor of the library, thanks to nervous Nellies and cantankerous censors, but Phil's not here and you ought to see this."
"You lead the way, Professor Spurgeon."
Fred led them to the Southern tower and unlocked the door. Sharp stepped through the door and nearly stepped back in surprise. He was standing on a wide balcony that was continous around the room except for periodic piercings for what appeared to be fire poles. Floor to ceiling shelves were built into the walls as were study desks placed beneath large windows. The edge of the balcony was protected by a wrought iron guard rail decorated with fantastical flowers and birds. Sharp stepped forward and looked down three stories.
"We call it the Rookary, for obvious reasons. I've always thought it spectacular."
"Absolutely, but..."
"Isn't it a hazard? I had hoped for better things from you. Students aren't allowed on this level until they are in their final pod, and sometimes not even then. Originally, this was due to the very many rare books and the more mature content of the books on this level, but little boys who once sailed down the long pole grew up to be lawyers and now deny their children the priveledge due to 'liability.'"
"The long pole?" Sharp asked.
"Oh,here, they took the pole out, but the gate is still here--welded shut, mind you, but still here. There was a fireman's pole that went the entire distance. It was a legend with the students that you couldn't graduate untl you had slid down the whole thing. They took it out in '82. Now the poles only go a story at a time. Speaking of, hop to it, Master Stein, your mother will be waiting."
"Yes, sir!" Frankie began his descent, happily scrabbling from pole to pole. When he reached the first floor he crashed out of the door and into the hallway.
Sharp smiled.
The rest of the tour was just as intriguing. Fred had an encycolpedic knowledge of the school history, and was delighted to have someone to share it all with.
As the two men finally returned to the first floor they found themselves in the midst of a small gathering of mothers and children. They had obviously let themselves in and then become aware they were being rude. A stack of papers was growing on a table in the entrance hall.
"May I help you, ladies?" Fred asked.
A young mother blushed. "The children were so excited by the advertisement and the web site that we came to hand deliver our applications."
"Advertisement? Web site?" Now it was Fred's turn to be confused.
Sharp stepped in. "I'll take care of these. There will be a secretary to collect applications here on Monday, but for now you may leave these here with me. You are also welcome to submit applications online."
"Could we tour the school? Randall was riding Manely, and Brooke just kissed old Beakley on the nose." The woman smiled encouragingly.
"I'm sorry, maam, but the school is closed for today." Sharp ushered all the mothers and children out into the school yard.
Fred thumbed through the stack of applications. The pile represented twenty children. He smiled as he looked at their photos. Phil was a genius.

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A TV School (Frankie Stein)

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Fred was surprised to find Frankie waiting on the steps. There was nothing surprising about his enthusiasm. What ten year old wouldn't want to mummify a bat? The surprise was that Phil was late. Phil woke up at 4 am and dashed out of her house at 5 in order to avoid her household staff. Fred would never understand why she didn't dismiss the staff, sell the house, and move into a nice condo, but to each her own.
Frankie took off for the third floor lab while Fred unlocked the front door and turned on a few lights. He wasn't expecting anyone else today, but occasionally Alan like to come and work equations on the glassboard.
Frankie had the bat in a tray and a dissection kit all laid out. Fred had to smile. he had been just the same at that age. In fact, his childhood pet--a cat named Ra--was in a papier mache casket on a shelf with other animal mummies he had made over the years.
Fred and Frankie set to work, and quickly removed the sacred organs. Fred was reaching down a jar of dessicant when the sound of a door slamming distracted him.
"I'll be right back. You can begin prepping the body for immersion."
Fred headed to the stairs to see where the sound was coming from and startled a young man. Dressed in jeans and a crisp, blue t-shirt, Balder Sharp was poking around in the school.
"Hello, I knew there had to be someone around, but the building is so still it was hard to imagine it. I'm B. Sharp of Blair Productions. I'm here to draw up a layout of the school and begin planning how to light and film the show here."
"So, Phil went ahead with it. Welcome to Sonrise. I'm Fred Spurgeon, professor of logic and whatever else the children get interested in. Today I'm teaching a young man how to properly mummify a bat. Is there any way I could help you?"
"I need to know how you use this building, so I can figure out how to film the show. If you could give me a tour, I'd greatly appreciate it."
"Certainly, let me get our bat comfortably settled in the natron and then Frankie and I will pretend to care about the ceremonial incantations. After that, I'm all yours."
"Thanks. I'll come find you."
"Third floor, history lab, take a right at the top of the stair and keep going until your nostrils scream."
Sharp continued measuring the rooms while he waited. The school was beautiful in its simplicity. The only complications to the very straightforward planning were the giant towers on the corners of the building. He had found the Southern tower locked, but the Northern tower had contained a chapel on the first floor and an art studio on the second.
He slogged through the endless classrooms on the second floor. They seemed little used, but well maintained. The third floor was a mess. Rooms were completely given over to an endless, ratty clutter. There were some slight indicators of order--racks of costumes, rows and rows of file cabinets, jars of chemical and art supplies--but the overall impression was one of filthy chaos.
He began to appreciate the comment about his nostrils screaming. There was a definite odor that began to make itself unavoidable as he drew closer to the history lab. Gagging, he entered the room.
The professor and his student were deeply involved in some ritual and they didn't seem to notice Sharp at all. The room was very orderly. He proceeded through time as he circled the walls.
He settled himself in the cold war section because it was the most down wind. Fred and Frankie finished up and Frankie headed for the stairs.
"Wait a minute, Frankie. How'd you like to slide down the library and out?"
"Really, Dr. Spurgeon?"
"Certainly, I need to give Mr. Sharp a tour and the library is the best part, right?"
"Right!"

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Silence

Today is one of those days when the loveliest sound I can imagine is complete silence. The older girls are taking swim classes and while I am delighted with their joy and their success in the classes, the younger ones and I are getting thoroughly crabby with the humidity and the boredom of sitting and watching them swim. Add to that the pressure I've put on myself to keep writing, and the way that my writer's group has cranked up the pressure to write well, and I just want to shut up and not say anything. I want to go off into the deepest woods I can find and put in ear plugs. I'd like to just sit and listen to nothing until I finally hear it. It feels like I've been years away from stillness, and there is nothing I want more.
So, my apologies world if I'm too quiet for your taste. My bucket is empty. I need to return to the stillness to fill it.